Fickle Kisses
by Rosie eisoR
Summary: Radella and Rosie. Fickle behaviour, trifling with hearts... And lots of kissing :P
1. George

Baron George of Pirates Swoop rolled his green-hazel eyes. He hated council meetings with a passion, but, as the one of the King's best spymasters, he was obligated to attend them every single time he was present in Corus, just like Alanna was. Trying to catch the vibrant purple eyes belonging to his wife, the ex-thief was given a silent, stern reprimand from the King, through his firm sapphire eyes. Alanna grinned when she realised what was going on, and winked at George, flicking a mocking glance in Jon's direction. 

"Baron George, could you please relay to us the information you have brought?" Jonathan demanded, bringing the rooms attention to George. Now everyone was watching him, George had to obey, and pay attention, which was exactly why Jon had chosen that moment.

"Scanra's creations are thought to date back to the Immortals War, they've just been keeping them under wraps. Improving them. Inar Hardensra is sposed to have assisted the making of those metal creatures."

Numair groaned loudly, annoyance hanging in the sound. "It makes sense. After all, he's certainly powerful enough. They also have Dawn Niconsri, a black robe, and countless other extremely impressive mages."

"But you've beaten Inar Hardensra before, in the Immortals War, which is surely evidence that your magic's superior to his..." George yawned, not even pretending he was listening any more. They had been over this point, he and Alanna, when he had first discovered the news. Alanna had acted out Jon's role, saying the exact words the King was now. Proved how well she knew him, come to that.

Jon stood, signalling the close of the meeting that had seemed endless. "We meet the next time there's news."

_...I think he means for me to go away again._

"George, will you be returning to Scanra anytime soon?"

_I knew it._

"As you wish, your Majesty."

"When exactly will you be leaving?" the King demanded.

"Sometime next week, your Majesty."

"Until then you will be..." He trailed off, meaningfully

"Keeping out of your way," George said promptly.

Alanna grinned, slinging an arm around the shoulders of both males. "Look, this isn't doing anyone any good," she said, mainly speaking to Jon. "We all need to relax. George needs to spend a fortnight with his family, and I need to look after him. You need to unwind, spend some time with Thayet. She's probably forgotten what you look like."

"Very funny." Jon shot Alanna a smouldering look, making her blush. George lifted her arm away from Jon's, embracing the Lioness tightly.

"Marking out your territory?" she whispered.

"Want to find Thom?"

Alanna smiled. "He's far too big for his Ma." But she allowed him to tow her away from Jon anyway.

"Alanna!" Jon called his Champion back; she groaned in frustration.

"See you later," she said, apologetically, over her shoulder. He smiled tightly. "See you."

--

"George! Have you seen Jon?"

"Yes, he's still in the council chambers with Alanna. They'll be out shortly."

Thayet grinned. "Discussing sword tactics, no doubt."

"I have to return to Scanra, week after next. Direct orders of his royal Majesty."

"Sorry, George. He's just concerned about the upper hand that Scanra seem to have. He'll be back to normal when this is all over."

"Ye missin' him?" George asked, kindly. The brunette was looking slightly forlorn.

"Yes."

"Fancy a drink, down the Dancing Dove?"

She nodded. "Let me change first."

"Don't bring any money," he warned.

Thayet laughed. "I'm not stupid."

"I never said you were." He watched as she walked briskly off.

--

"And then, the hag said, "No, I'm not." Isn't that just so unbelievably funny?" Thayet dissolved into giggles at her own joke. George watched her, worriedly. He scrutinised the unfamiliar innkeeper. Solom was among those who had died in the events leading up to the coronation; many of these rogues were now unfamiliar. Was it possible that he could have tainted the Queen's drink? Water didn't usually influence a person this way. The brunet at the bar scowled at George's suspicious look.

"George!" Marek, the new King of Thieves, worked his way through the crowd.

"Marek." Past king leaned back to speak to present. "Who's the new innkeeper?"

"He appeared a while ago, beggin' fer a place. Why? Ye got a problem wi' him?"

George motioned to the still-giggling Thayet. "No, but she has. Or will have when she sobers up."

Marek winced. "What's happened?"

"She drank somethin' from him."

"What was it?"

"I don't know, but it's clearly not what I ordered!"

"So what did ye order?"

"Water! Ye think I'm stupid! I'd never give the Queen alcohol! Alanna 'n Jon'd kill me!"

"Thayet's had alcohol?"

Both men turned. Marek bowed mockingly.

"Yer Majesty. Welcome t'my humble home."

"Where is she?"

George winced, and pointed to the oblivious, visibly drunk, swaying Queen.

Jon shook his head in a disappointed fashion and walked over to his sniggering wife.

"Come on, Thayet."

"Thayet? Who's that? Was she the hag in that joke? Have you heard that joke? It's so funny..." Jon looked at George with raised eyebrows. He took Thayet's arm, and led her away. Marek and George could hear Thayet telling the hag story to Jon as he took her out of the Dancing Dove.

Marek whistled. "What got into his loincloth?"

"Obviously not Thayet. What, in the name of Mithros, happened to her?" It was Alanna who spoke, just having entered the inn.

George faced his wife. "Don't ask."

"That bad?"

He nodded. "Marek, you'll sort it, won't ye?"

"I dont think I'll be able t'. I mean, 'm only th'King of Thieves, after all," the thief said sourly.

George grinned broadly. "Sorry. Forgot, for a minute there. Now, Alanna," he said, turning his attention to his wife. "What were we about t'do, before the King interrupted us so rudely?"

She smiled. "I don't think you need me to tell you, laddy-me-love."

His grin widened. "No, I don't. You're right." He leaned down and kissed her.

--

As mentioned before, I'm doing this fic with Radella. I'll tell you one thing, but you'll have to guess what else is in store. Each chapter has to be exactly 1000 words, not including Author's Notes, and end in the words - and kissed her/him. Not too difficult to grasp, is it? Course, I forgot to tell Radella this was up, but she'll find out soon enough. I updated loads of stuff recently. Got inspiration from going round Buckingham Palace. Radz'll have her chapter up soon. I think. This'll be funny.


	2. Alanna

Fickle Kisses  
By Rosie and Radella

AN: He-he! Guess which couple I'm writing about? If anybody gets it wrong I will be properly ashamed of you. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and it is not, I repeat, NOT, really typically A/J. Remember, we the 2 R's, have a passion for the unusual. And when we began this story, we didn't have limits on subject matter. (Well, some of us could be a bit more sharing with the info like when one is posting or something small like that you know...) well, please review. This really is fun to write and I hope it's just as fun for you to read. And flames, if you must, Rosie loves 'em so go ahead and send 'em our way (oh and make sure they are not pathetic, we want good flames that will make us cringe - haven't got any yet...)

--

Alanna tossed her long hair over her shoulder. She would need to cut it soon; it was getting irritating. Her blouse and breeches billowed a bit in the early morning wind as she watched Corus wake up to the rising of the sun. Just a few more minutes and the whole of the capital would burst into action under her gaze.

"And what are you doing up here?" a laughing voice muttered. Alanna turned toward the voice, her hand on her sword hilt. She cursed her own thoughts; her preoccupation had led to being caught off guard-worse yet, she was on watchman duty.

By the time she spotted the speaker, she had already guessed who it was.

"Watchman duty, Jon, or did you forget there is a reason that you know when your castle is being attacked?" she walked towards him along the narrow wall.

"You aren't signed up for it," he informed her cheerily. Way too cheery for someone who had woken up this early. Maybe if I pretended I didn't know him, she thought grumpy because he had interrupted her sunrise, I could still bash him around with my sword. He wouldn't look so cheery then.

She looked in the opposite direction so he wouldn't see her look of annoyance. He must have spotted her coming up to the towers and checked the schedule that was posted in the hallway-the only problem was that Jon could see she was annoyed and he would be happy about it. It was a fun game to win, but losing was sometimes worse than being humiliated in front of the whole of Tortall. (Most the time if Jon won; all of the time if she won.)

"Anyway, your status is too high for you to sign on as guard here. Your pride won't allow you to be on guard duty unless as an excuse. You just want to see the sunrise."

A-ha! She thought grimly when she heard the tired note in her best friend's voice. Looks like he ran out of adrenaline, how horrible.

"You are here for the same reason, brainless one," she muttered. He shrugged.

"If I am brainless, what does that make you, Lioness?" he asked calmly, eyes towards the soon to be rising sun. She was standing shoulder to shoulder with him now.

"Insane," she said, ignoring him as he laughed. It was the oldest joke that she and her friends shared (and a few dead "friends" but they weren't exactly on her favorites list so thinking about them would only put her in one of her moods) but it still bought memories. Good memories of the old days when they weren't too worried about a war with things almost impossible to defeat. Only an evil sorcerer trying to slowly kill off the rest of the royal family - yeah, she'd take Duke Roger over the entire Scanran Army any day. Roger was one man that she could take care of properly - but there was little she could do with thousands of vicious warriors.

"So, big brave heroine of so many wars Alanna the Lioness just wants to see the sunrise?" he said too sweetly. She elbowed him in the stomach harshly.

"Ickle kingie of Tortall gets up early so he can watch the morning sun wake up his capital city? How touching," she snapped at him. He put an arm around her shoulders.

"Hey, you are right. It is my capital. And I believe - if I remember correctly - that this is my castle. So I am wondering why you are making fun of me?" he shook his head mockingly. "I could just be rid of you as Champion, I really don't need you, you know..."

She grinned at his sarcasm, "Because if I wasn't around you be a big-headed prig that couldn't keep his head on because it would have floated away from having too much air in it - or at least you'd be a bigger-headed prig..."

Jon rolled his eyes childishly. "I get the point. You are my humbling servant, not humble."  
"See what happens when I go away for eight years? All my hard work undone..." she sighed dramatically. "It would have been much easier if you had let Kel train without a probation, you know."

He glowered, "Don't think I didn't realize that, Alanna. Do you think Thayet, Raoul, Gary, or Numair let me off easy?"

She laughed loudly. "I love having friends who know I'm always right, don't you?"

"Ha-ha. I find it hilarious, I assure you," he muttered.

"I am a funny person," she remarked, not really realizing what she was saying as she watched a blue bird soar overhead.

He snickered, "Yeah, real funny. So funny, I still can't figure out exactly what is so funny about you."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye with aggravation, "If I am funny what does that make you?" She glued his own words to his forehead, smirking while she did.

"Smart, classy, charming, unlike yourself my dear. I am sure you'll quite understand that I say this with all due respect, which isn't much mind you, but I think that you need some work that sword of yours, it's getting rusty just sitting there from no practice in months... "

She turned and looked at him with a dumb grin on her face, drawing her sword with ease.  
"Care to repeat that, my lord?" she said between gritted teeth. He smiled at her with his most mischievous smile. He had won. He had made her irked enough to draw her sword; he expected her to slap him around a bit.

She looked at him piercingly and sheathed her sword much to his amusement. He would have made a crude comment in a moment but he didn't have time.

'He thinks I'm predictable, does he?' She thought vengefully. 'Well, all right, let's see how predictable he finds this.'

She grabbed him around the neck and kissed him.

--

Unfortunately, I cannot update this without Rosie knowing because it's on her account grumbles but I'll have to make her pay in some other way…blame her if I don't update any of my other fics within the next month or so…lol. No, I'm not that mean. Just review and we'll see if you guys like it or not and we'll maybe continue (but we want reasons!) you heard us. Now put something in that poor lonely little box!


	3. Jon

Helllllllllooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!! HAND! Two things to guess in my one. You should guess, given my current fic-fatuations. Radz'll guess. *grinz*.  
  
*  
  
Jon's sapphire eyes widened, and he stepped back from Alanna, instantly breaking their kiss.  
  
"What was that?" he stuttered, in complete shock. Why had she broken their unspoken agreement?  
  
"A kiss," she grinned, trying to lighten his face with humour. "Didn't you know? I thought you would have by now." Her humour faded, as did her smile, creating a solemn, downcast expression.  
  
"Not funny, Alanna." He turned on his heel, and walked away, leaving her to watchman duty. Otherwise known as escape from George. And the reason he was up at this un-godly hour? Thayet. Thayet knew he wasn't in love with her. Thayet knew he loved Alanna. Just as George knew Alanna loved her King.  
  
Her voice followed him down the stone wall. "Jon, I-"  
  
"Need to get back to your post. And I have to leave." His tone dared her to reply; her violet eyes flashed, but, for a gods-blessed once, she held her tongue. He caught her eyes with his, silently telling her that yes, he did love her, before putting his head down and walking briskly off, not even allowing himself that last, lingering gaze at his - no, the country's. George's - copper haired knight.  
  
*  
  
The smooth stone was very interesting. So interesting, in fact, that he had been staring at it for just over an hour and a half. He smiled, picturing Alanna's face close to his own once more. But, for the sake of appearances, he couldn't go back and kiss her. For their own sakes, he certainly couldn't have kissed her back, or even prolonged the one they had. So, here he was, staring at a light grey, fairly small, incredibly dull stone, covered in the droppings of birds. It didn't even take his mind off his Champion. Not that anything ever could.  
  
"Your Majesty." The breathless speaker was a dishevelled Daine, half- dressed in one of Numair's white shirts. The garment completely dwarfed her, covering her thighs and would have been funny, had the expression on her face not killed the mood entirely. "It's the Lioness. She's... An arrow." The tearful WildMage mimed pulling a slim object out of thin air and thrusting it into her slender throat. "Didn't see... She collapsed. She... She's gone." It seemed to be too painful to go further than a brief summary.  
  
Shaky sobs had lined Daine's words, so that the meaning of them took a while to sink in. Even then he was tempted to treat it as a joke. The humour, however, was lost on Jon.  
  
Dead? Alanna? No, it was impossible. She was invincible. His Alanna wouldn't have let a mere arrow bring her down. Unless...unless she had been preoccupied. Oh no. No, it couldn't be possible. It wasn't possible.  
  
"Can I see her?" he rasped, wondering how he had remembered how to speak.  
  
Daine fought more tears from pouring their way down her icy cheeks and smiled sadly, soft lips trembling to adapt to the new expression, an eternity away from how she evidently felt. How they both felt. "Yes. I'll take you to her."  
  
*  
  
Alanna's room was crammed with mourners. Priests, court ladies, other knights, people who had absolutely no right to be there. Jon shook with anger. How dare they be here? How dare they pretend they hadn't looked down on her for being the wonderful, vibrant, passionate person that she was just because she had taken her sex away from the convent and cushioned home life, straight into the battlefields? Daine flicked a short glance at him, and straight away proceeded to order people out. They obeyed her, not out of choice, but out of fear. Fear of what she could do when angered. The brunette was looked down on, but so little was known of her power that most of court expected to be turned into chickens when she so much looked at them. Of course, there was also the fact that her lover was a very powerful black robe mage. A mage that had been rumoured to turn people into trees if they upset his Daine. So, on the whole, it was best to leave the two mages alone, and obey them whenever necessary.  
  
When the last timid courtier had scurried past the scornful WildMage, Daine turned to Jon, sympathy in her light blue-grey gaze. "I'll go and find Numair now. I believe he's attempting to contact Baron George at Pirate's Swoop, to inform him of the... incident. That is, if the Baron's reached his home yet, and if there's a scry mage in residence at the Swoop."  
  
"No." He put out a hand to stop her, not wanting to be completely alone. She seemed to understand; she closed the door and sat on a stool just behind him.  
  
Jon knelt next to the marble white Alanna, who was lying on the bed, a bandage that matched her pasty skin apart from the blood that stained the front, wrapped around her throat. She had wanted to cut her hair, which had reached halfway down her arm in full length. There would be no need now; it would never grow again. Tears covered Jon's cheeks as he stared down at his motionless best friend. He couldn't believe she had gone. His love. Dead. Never to return. Eyes never to find the light of day.  
  
Needing comfort, the King reached for Daine's hand. It was soft and warm in his own shaky one. She knelt next to him and he pulled her into a tight hug. She stiffened, and then relaxed, freeing her arm to pat his shoulder and murmur soothing phrases in his ear. Momentarily, he buried his face in her shoulder, letting the tears come freely, unashamed of the emotion he felt at the leaving of his Lioness. He had known she would die, but not so young. So... painfully. He had envisioned her drifting towards the Black God in her sleep. Quickly. Finally gripping his emotions, he lifted his face to Daine's ashen one and kissed her.  
  
*  
  
Right, please flame. Sorry, review. If anything seems a little off, e.g. speech, it's 'cause it had to be 1000 words. I'm not used to this - I had to lengthen everything!  
  
I have a small request. Could you please set out the writing you'll (obviously) do in the blue box as shown below.  
  
Response: state whether it's a flame or a review.  
  
Author r/f: Rosie or Radz.  
  
Reason for response: I'm a pathetic loser/I can't stand that you killed my favourite charctor! Nor can I spell!/Changing couples is bad!/It was brilliant (to be used only if you are insane, and even then very hyper).  
  
Additional comments:  
  
Anticipated typical response:  
  
Flame. Rosie. The first three reasons. No additional comments, apart from it SUCKED!  
  
Thank you for your time. 


	4. Daine (and about every other male presen...

               **Fickle Kisses**

_By Radella (efin advisor, rose) and the author formerly known as Rose_

AN: Ha! I've got it out Rose! I knew I had to think of a twist but I wasn't coming until today so I finished the last paragraph. Here you go Rose, it should be hard to continue, but you know its pay back for killing Alanna. And don't you dare bury Alanna yet, I have plans yet and you won't be trying anything else that might endanger the plot. Akright everybody, have faith! And review. Always review. 

Daine was too shocked to do anything but stand there eyes wide, looking stupidly at the King that she had known and respected since she was twelve. After three seconds in her stupor, she relaxed, letting herself go in temptation. 

Things in her mind flashed, warning precautions, silliness that she paid absolutely no attention to:

He is even older than Numair…he's _married_…_I'm_ practically _engaged_…he's the _king _of _Tortall_…

Damn he's a good kisser.****

Slowly, Daine put her arms around his neck. Her tears over Alanna were dry on her cheeks, and Alanna was completely forgotten. Jon's kiss grew more passionate, and Daine wondered what had caused him for such action.

Not like I mind, she thought slyly, sliding he fingers just inside the collar of Jon's white shirt. 

Jon's thoughts were blurred. Alanna…dead…gone…Daine…there…them kissing…

Kissing? It took a moment for that to register in his grief stricken head. He couldn't help enjoy Daine's soft lips on his, despite his sadness. 

He pulled away for a moment, "Daine…"

Her pretty blue-grey eyes reflected in his, her eyelashes fluttering suductively, "What? Not enjoying it?"

"Daine…I'm sorry but…"

Daine pushed him onto the couch, at the same time regluing her mouth to his. Much as he had previously wanted to abort the issue, he was now stuck, and there was no turning back…and most certainly, he was trapped in his own longings. 

Daine on the other hand, was quite completely okay with what was going on between her and the king. Numair was lovely, of course, but he couldn't measure up to the King. Jon's a much better kisser, decided Daine happily. Older and more mature, too. And rather, he didn't have a grey hair on his head, though she had promised not to tell a soul that Numair had to have his dyed every week. 

Neither of the two lustful lovers noticed a pair of purple wide eyes watching them from under the deathbed of Alanna. Neither knew that it was quiete a mistake to letting this cetain person be so aware of their actions… 

Myles of Olau walked towards the room where Alanna was, knowing that he really didn't want to see what was there, though he knew what awaited him. He couldn't believe that his daughter was dead—maybe it had always seemed that she was so imortal and invincible in everyone's mind. Always strong while she was in pain and strong for everyone around her when they couldn't have the strength. And now what was he to do—he didn't have Alanna to tell him when to stop drinking anymore. No, he hadn't realized how much he missed her. 

His tears flowed over his tired eyes. Myles hardly cried, but the loss of his daughter was one of the most painful things in his life. What had she been thinking up there? She would have been alert as usual if she were on guard duty. What had been so preoccupying that she couldn't have been alerted in time to duck out of the way of an enemy arrow. _Well_, he thought tiredly, _at least it wasn't an enemy's arrow. It was one of another suspicious guard. Damn him. _

He waited a minute before entering. He wasn't sure if he was ready to do this at all. What would the sight of a dead Alanna do to him? Alanna would always be the alive picture of the reckless ten-year old who had been first introduced to him in his mind. Immortal and never aging. 

But he pushed open the door anyway, eyes downcast. When he looked up, he was positive he must have been hallucinating. Or at least dreaming. Because there was Daine and the King. And Daine and the King were kissing—and looking as if it were transforming into something more… definitely not appropriate behaviour for the deathbed of his daughter. He rubbed his eyes, thinking it would clear them. He pinched himself, knowing quiete well that this was suddenly real. But how could it be?  
Maybe it is time I should stop drinking. 

Myles cleared his throat. Daine and Jon sprang apart like jumping beans. Jon was silent and Daine searched rapidly for an excuse. Damn, thought she, caught. What am I supposed to do—we only got caught by one of the most important people in Tortall. 

A figure crept out from under the bed. His cheeks were streaked with dried tears and blood from his lips after biting them so much in vain to keep back the tears that had to come. His clothes were rumpled, as if he'd slept in them. Alexander of Pirates Swoop, the youngest twin, only ten and a page at the Palace. He was not so sure he wanted to be a knight in service of this King anymore. 

Damn that offspring of Alanna and her damn adoptive father, thought Daine uncharacteristically. It had just been damn lust. What is the big deal exactly?

"Excuse me, Daine, Your Majesty, but could you please explain this eh, awkward situation that I have just witnessed?"

Daine looked at Jon. But Jon was looking at Alanna. He didn't care anymore. Alanna was the love of his life and now she was gone forever. Jon walked over to the copper-haired knight and grasped her cold hand tightly, kneeling down at eye level with his Champion, crying as he watched her motionless figure. Daine now knew that he hadn't meant anything by his kiss, and Daine's slight infatuation with him broke, along with a corner of her heart. 

_And not only Myles, there was the boy to deal with. But he'll be easy enough to persuade_, thought Daine. _Its Myles we have to worry about._

Daine confidently walked over to Myles and put her arms around his neck. They were the same height. She heard the boy make a noise of surprise as she leaned in with all her maidenly seductiveness, and kissed him.   
  



	5. Myles

Tap… tap… tap… Sir Myles of Olau awoke, and checked his location. He sighed and rose. His head pounded; the result of a heavy night drinking. It was proven that people tended to consume more alcohol when they were depressed. No wonder then, that he had probably swallowed half the innkeeper's drink. He wished the problems vanished with his headache, although the latter didn't feel like it wanted to leave his mind in peace anytime soon.

Last night's dream had been a particularly peculiar one. He had been going to visit Alanna's deathbed, and had caught the WildMage and Jonathon kissing! Young Alex had viewed the dubious scene as well. Veralidaine had then walked over to him – Sir Myles, no handsome youth – and kissed him full on the lips. The dream had been extremely vivid, and may even have been believable, if the fact that the Royal Family, Numair, Daine and Alanna's squire, Neal, had all departed to give the news of Alanna's death to Pirate's Swoop not existed. He pitied them. It would not be an easy task.

He shuffled towards the door. It was hard to do anything without his precious, vibrant adopted daughter still living. 

Suddenly…

CRASH!

Myles' bemused hazel eyes opened wide. He ran to the direction of the noise, hand on hilt.

"Ouch! Stupid spell," he heard a female mutter. A mage. Exactly what he needed.

"In the will of Jonathon IV of Conte, I demand to know your name."

Somebody sprang out from underneath the stairs. "Radella," she stated firmly. For a moment, she looked around curiously with her green eyes. "Wow, I can't believe it actually worked. So, um, Myles. How are you?"

He stepped back, wary. "How do you know my name?"

Her eyes increased in size for a split second, before retreating to normal. "Where's your daughter? King Jonathon? Nealan of Queenscove?" she asked eagerly, avoiding his probing question, adding her own, which Myles was reluctant to answer himself.

Myles cast his eyes downwards. "Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Olau was killed whilst on watchman's duty. Her body was cremated recently, and the ashes scattered around the world," he said dully.

The brunette faltered. "I'll get Rosie for that," she grumbled in a low tone. "Ruining my chapter. Anyway, what about King Jonathon?"

"He's visiting the Lioness's husband, and won't return for over a month," was the only reply Myles saw fit to give. Radella scowled, obviously knowing he was keeping information back from her. However, she either couldn't be bothered to force him to tell her, pitied him for his silence, or lacked strength, for she pursued the matter no further. He opted for the latter.

"Radella," he said gruffly. "Don't you know enough to leave a grieving man to his sorrows?"

She examined him through her inquisitive green gaze. "I also know enough not to leave a hung over man to his doom," she retorted sharply, just like Alanna would have.

He smiled briefly, before the pain shot through to his heart. "I…"

"Need a rest," she completed.

He nodded. "Would the lovely lady help me back to my chambers?"

She laughed, and he wondered if she knew he was being sarcastic. Nevertheless, she took his arm and guided him up the stairs.

*

The harsh light of morning smacked into his eyes. Myles growled a couple of times, blinked dozens and swore even more than that.

Radella stood next to him, mouth quivering with amusement. He wondered what was so funny, and must have done so aloud, for she pulled her laughter in to answer a question he couldn't remember verbalising. "I just… can't believe those are your… swear words," she spluttered.

He drew himself up, haughtily. "What is wrong with our profanities?" he asked, annoyed before he realised how ludicrous it was to be insulted by a child saying their vulgar language was no match for hers.

"Well, I'll just say that 'dirty dung' isn't exactly my idea of being rude."

He raised a greying eyebrow. "Oh? Would you care to share with me what is?"

She did. His mouth dropped open. She grinned.

"Shall we make our way back to your rooms **before** sunset?" she asked pertly.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not the one holding us up with their uncouth verbal skill."

"You did ask."

'What a difficult girl this is!' Myles thought privately. He had never met such bad manners. She seemed to be enjoying irritating him. Of course, knowing that fact aggravated him further.

*

Finally, he caught sight of his room down the corridor. When they reached it, he leaned his head against the frame of the door. "Would you like to come in?" he invited bashfully. She nodded eagerly. 

He fumbled for a moment with the ancient key in the lock. He would need to have it oiled soon. Eventually, the antique door creaked open (with a little persuasion).

"So."

She smiled tightly. "So."

"Would you like a drink?" he offered.

She lifted both eyebrows. "That's illegal in my country."

"Not that type!" he exclaimed. "Water."

She blushed. "Oh. Sure, whatever." She hopped down from the dresser where she had been perched and wandered around the room. "Have you got any paintings of King Jonathon?"

The request was strange. "Not with me. I'll take you down to the galleries in a minute." He gulped down his water, handing her the other glass. She sipped it carefully, making a face.

"You call this _clean_ water, I suppose?" She spat her mouthful out of the window, much to his disapproval. "Take me to the galleries," she ordered.

He sighed and obeyed.

*

"Here he is. King Jonathon IV of Tortall, along with Queen Thayet, Princesses Kalasin and Lianne, and Princes Jasson, Liam and the Crown Prince Roald."

Radella gasped. 'Now what?' he wondered, to himself this time.

"But he's so ugly!" she complained.

Myles's brows crossed. The King of Tortall had never before been labelled a hideous creature. He wondered… Suddenly, he bent and kissed her.

*

John's version – 

"One day, a lady knight called 'Randella', entered Myles' room, fiery passion in her chest. She ripped off his clothes and stared at his big sword."

*

Well, you did want me to get it out quickly! Who prefers my bro's version? : P. See what happens when you rush me? You pay for it. Know how many people have been told about this chapter? Poor Rax. Was it fun, snogging the man of your dreams? I reckon the next chapter will appear on your screens pretty quickly.

Have fun!


End file.
